Caught Like A Mouse in a Mousetrap
by RelapseAndEscape
Summary: 3x19. Kurt is chosen as Prom Queen again. Klaine. Kurt hurt.


_yeah. shush. i'm not done. i have one more thing to post. :P_

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_"There's been a write-in for Prom Queen…"_

Kurt felt like his lungs had lost their ability to encompass the oxygen that was in the air, because he swore he was choking on air, _but it can't be me it can't be me it can't be me it can't be me it can't me not again not again not fucking again_—

"…Kurt Hummel."

That was _it_.

Things were going to go to shit right now. If he had something in his hands, he would've broken it in the nearest person's face. Anger was good. Anger was _good_. If he was angry and his body twitched, then he couldn't feel the pain or suddenly start bursting into tears _or any fucking thing_. They can't know. They _won't_ know.

_Suck in a deep breath. Walk, Hummel. Maintain strut. They'll all be working for **you** one day._

There was silence in the air, and Kurt let the crown befall his head again, as he held the sceptre in his hand. God, he wanted to throw it at _anyone_. He would've, _but remain calm, Kurt. Don't give them the satisfaction_. _Not again_. He felt his heart quivering inside of him, shaking like a mouse caught in a mouse-trap…

Finn looked uncertain. Quinn and Santana started singing "Take My Breath" in the most quietest voices, no pride, nothing, just the quiet, _JUST THE WORLD STARING AT HIM AND IF THEY DON'T STOP HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE_…_alright, Hummel…calm, step back, step forward, step back, step forward_—and he would've thrown the sceptre at Santana's face if he wasn't sure that Santana will beat him up so hard he'd see more stars than Rachel's notebook.

Finn wanted to say something but he doesn't because he was afraid someone will hear him. Kurt was glad because if Finn even muttered the words _are you okay?_ then shit would've gone down and Kurt was not sure if it was going to be him cursing every singular person standing there and staring, or if he'd punch someone square in the jaw, or if he was just going to break down into tears in front of everyone.

Victimised _again_. Those bastards being bastards _again_. Everyone being a coward and not standing up and saying 'hey, Hummel's a homo' _again_.

He left the building almost immediately after the dance, but lingered still, sceptre in hand, crown on his head, glittering like a radioactive waste product and he could nearly see Sebastian Smythe's meerkat face rubbing it all in, soaking it all up like the bastard he was—

He looked around, nearly sure nobody was around. Stones cluttered near the gym hall, sand, pavement, and a huge black dumpster near the gym. Blaine slowly poked his head to see his boyfriend standing there, throwing the sceptre away as if it was an offense to him. He swung his leg towards the side of the dumpster, kicking it with his left foot repeatedly.

"So many…fucking…_cowards_!" Kurt cursed out, grabbing a fistful of his hair, only to realise the tiara was still there, and he grabbed it out of his hair, trying to snap the metal in two halves, and then threw it back down towards the ground and then stomping on it. The tiny glittery rhinestones falling out of place.

"What the fuck do they have against _me_?" Kurt hissed under his breath, hands balling into fists as he pummelled the dumpster in front of him.

Blaine nearly flinched himself at the contact of Kurt's fists with the dumpster. Kurt's empty threats sounded in the air. "Fucking bastards. Fucking cowards. Fucking…_just_…" Kurt threw another swing at the dumpsters, eyes finally meeting with Blaine's hazel ones. It didn't calm him down though. He bet he looked stupid throwing punches at an animate object.

Kurt took a fistful of his hair again and then screamed, kicking the dumpster again, before pressing his head against it, not caring if he smelled rancid meat or week-old tuna. God knew he'd gotten into enough dumpster dives to get used to the smell.

_Suck it in, Kurt. Suck it in. Do not do anything stupid, like egg their cars or piss on their seats—_

"Just…" Kurt's voice calmed down a whole notch.

"…_yeah_." His voice dull.

He felt Blaine move towards him and then hugging him as tightly as possible. Kurt, surprised at first, did nothing but then brought his arms around Blaine as well.

"I want to kill them. I want to kill all of them or _severely injure_—"

Kurt was cut off by Blaine.

"_Shh_…"

Kurt felt himself melting into Blaine's arms. "It's gonna be okay," Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear in a voice that sounded like a promise.

"You'll get into NYADA." Blaine chuckled this time. "And then it'll all be beautiful and okay and they're going to be begging to polish your shoes when you make it on Broadway. You'll walk in the Lima Bean and Missy would be asking you for your order, and you'd quite so snidely remark and she'll get your order right, but you'd scoff and say you asked for _no caramel_. Then they'll fire her. And everyone else. And we'll ride off into the sunset on unicorns."

Kurt shook his head and then tightened his grip on Blaine, as if he was going to disappear. He grabbed a fistful of Blaine's hair, holding him precious.

"If the world suddenly explodes, or birds decide to bleed on my front porch, I…" Kurt bit down his lower lip. "Don't ever change, Blainey. Don't _ever_ change."

Blaine shook his head, smile on his lips. "Breathe, Kurt. Just _breathe_."

Kurt took a deep breath of air, but only hung on tighter. "_They_ made me—"

"They can't touch you," Blaine continued. "They can't do anything to you. I've got you…I've got you now, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt suddenly felt tears burn into his eyes, and he was angry at himself in that moment and then let out a small chuckle. "I've got you too, you know?"


End file.
